Bruno Paul Hagedorn
Second Lieutenant Bruno P. Hagedorn was a Marine Corps pilot who flew with VMSB-241.
He was shot down and reported missing in the battle of Midway on 4 June 1942.
Branch
Marine Corps Reserve
Service Number O-7480
Current Status
Remains not recovered.
Pursuit Category
Based on circumstances of loss, this individual is considered permanently non-recoverable.
History
Alfred Hagedorn, a native of Holstein, Germany, emigrated to the United States in 1904. He settled in New Jersey, found work in the kitchen of Newark City Hospital, and married a New York girl named Alma in 1914. They had their first son, Johannes, that year, then on September 3, 1917 a second son – Bruno Paul Hagedorn – was born. In the years that followed, two girls (Emma and Alma) were welcomed into the family.
Bruno grew up in Newark. Despite the good cooking of his father (who had become a chef at the hospital), Bruno was lean and athletic; he captained the track teams at Barringer High School (class of 1935) and the Newark College of Engineering (class of 1939). He met Vibeke Bense, a pretty Dutch-American girl living in nearby Elizabeth, and soon Bruno and Becky were an established item.
Hagedorn’s interest in the Marine Corps came early in his life; he joined the Reserves in Newark on 15 April 1936, while still a college freshman. He attended weekly drills with Company D, Fourth Battalion until 20 October 1937, when his unit was absorbed into the Limited Service Unit of the 3rd Reserve District based in Brooklyn.
In 1939, with engineering diploma in hand, Bruno Hagedorn headed out to start his career. He took a job as an insurance engineer for the Ocean Accident and Guarantee Corporation, which required a temporary move to Massachusetts. Bruno turned twenty-three while living in Dorchester; a few weeks later, he was compelled to register for Selective Service.
It did not take long for “Bronc” to reevaluate his career goals. He was mechanically minded and interested in aviation; with his education, his athletic background, and a four-year Reserve hitch to his credit, the slender boy from Jersey realized he had an excellent shot at becoming an officer and a pilot.On 16 December 1940, Hagedorn re-enlisted in the Marine Corps Reserve – and was designated a student naval aviation pilot that same day. Private First Class Hagedorn was on his way to elimination training at Squantum, Massachusetts; he might have seen Albert W. Tweedy, Jr., on his way to Pensacola.
Bruno passed the rigorous elimination training and pre-flight school, and in 1941 was sent down to Florida for more advanced training. Young pilots were put through their paces, flying first with instructors and then on their own. Formation flying, aerobatics, gunnery, tactics, and navigation were hammered home; young men just out of college learned how to fly by instruments at night, and how to recover from potentially fatal midair mistakes. Not everyone passed – nor did everyone survive the training at Pensacola. Hagedorn made it through, and learned to fly a dive bomber into the bargain. He earned his “wings of gold” and his commission as a Marine Corps second lieutenant on 5 December 1941. It was a Friday, and Hagedorn likely looked forward to a weekend of celebration.
By Sunday, the country was at war. Hagedorn was allowed a leave over the holidays, and went home to spend Christmas with his family and Becky. He rang in the New Year en route to California, and on 2 January 1942 was taken up on the rolls of the 2nd Marine Aircraft Wing in San Diego.
Bruno had proposed to Becky after deciding to enlist, but his training schedule had gotten in the way of a wedding. Once he settled in California, she traveled out to meet him. “It’s about 9 o’clock in New Jersey now,” he wrote to his family on February 7. “In just a couple of hours Becky will start on her way out here. I think it’s wonderful. Now all I have to do is play sick on Wednesday and get excused so I can meet the train. They are getting too strict around here to suit me. We’re still treated like a bunch of cadets. I’ll be glad when we get into an all Marine outfit instead of being pushed around with the Navy. The Marine [Corps] seems to run things better as it’s smaller.”
Happily, Becky did arrive on time.
A joint letter from Bruno and Becky, describing the early days of married life.
Although still relatively fresh out of flight school, the need for pilots of any experience was so great that Hagedorn found himself bound for combat sooner than anticipated. He was finally assigned to a Marine unit – Air Group 21 – and boarded the USS William Ward Burrowsin San Diego. Although the squadron sailed for parts officially unknown, Hagedorn and the other Marines knew they were headed into danger. In a letter postmaked “somewhere at sea,” Hagedorn addressed his problems with his customary wit:
I guess I can’t say very much about anything on account of censorship regulations, but I can say a lot about nothing. (Or something.) We’re due to arrive tomorrow morning and that isn’t any too soon for me as the scenery and everything else gets monotonous after a while…. Poor me had to go break my dental bridge as I was getting ready to shave. It’s still usable tho so people still think I have some teeth…. Say Mother, I hope you haven’t been worrying because it’s the last thing I want. Everything will be all right so please stop and take good care of yourself. The thing I worry about most is you worrying, so stop or it will give me a whooping.
The officers and enlisted men disembarked on Midway on Friday, April 17, 1942. The new officers reported to VMSB-241 and found that Lofton Henderson, the impressive major some had met on the voyage, was their commanding officer. When the time came to assign aircraft, Hagedorn was out of luck; he received a Vought SB2U Vindicator, an obsolete aircraft which steadily deteriorated during training. Bruno and his gunner, PFC Joseph T. Piraneo, were not alone in noticing that the engines shuddered so badly in their “Vibrator” that the entire fuselage shook, that the fabric skins of the bombers developed worrisome holes, or that the frayed edges flapped in the breeze, giving the aircraft the nickname “Wind Indicator.” Still, Hagedorn’s letters maintained a lighthearted tone. “Everything is still just fine and dandy out here and I expect it will remain so,” he wrote, with a touch of sarcasm, on May 11. “It certainly is a nice life being an officer as we are well taken care of. Have everything we need and then some.”
Do you want to hear something funny? Seeing as you didn’t answer me I’ll have to tell you so skip it if you’re not interested. Well I’m letting the fuzz grow under my nose, that is on my upper lip. I guess you got the idea. I know I’ll get a lot of wisecracks in your next letter. If I don’t I’ll be disappointed. Well believe it or not it’s growing all right and only after four days you can actually see it if you’re close and the light is good. Maybe I’ll give you all a big treat and “wear” it home. I imagine I’ll lose my nerve tho. Do you know what else I’m doing? Well I’m getting a tan all over. At least I have a start on it!
Hagedorn had time for a final letter on May 24, 1942. He would be too busy in the following days to set pen to paper; even if he had, the mail service at Midway had to take a backseat to military operations as reports of Japanese movements began to increase in frequency.
Hagedorn and Piraneo thanked their lucky stars on May 26: they left their Vindicator in its revetment and began flying Douglas Dauntless SBD-2 #2139, one of several new bombers that was delivered to the squadron that day. They were assigned to the Fourth Section of the squadron’s First Division, along with 2Lt. Albert W. Tweedy, Jr. and Sergeant Elza L. Raymond.
Hagedorn was still working out the controls of his new aircraft when he was told to fly it into action on the morning of 4 June 1942. He and PFC Piraneo flew with as much confidence as they could muster, forming up behind Lt. Tweedy as the bombers lumbered towards the reported location of the Japanese fleet; they could see Major Henderson flying out of formation, shepherding his untested pilots along like a worried mother hen.
The American bombers spotted their target, the Japanese carrier Hiryū, only moments before the enemy’s fighters spotted them. Henderson rejoined the formation and got them started into their gliding descent before the Zeros shot him down in flames; Hagedorn’s wingman, Albert Tweedy, had formed up on the leader and was soon falling out of control.
Without a wingman, and without the advantages of speed and accuracy that came with a proper diving attack, Hagedorn and Piraneo were sitting ducks for Japanese guns. Nobody knew when their aircraft fell; their absence was not noticed until the survivors of the attack formed up and began to head for home. Both Marines were declared dead on 5 June 1943.
Bruno Hagedorn was awarded a posthumous Navy Cross for his actions in the battle. PFC Piraneo received a posthumous Distinguished Flying Cross.
Second Lieutenant Hagedorn is memorialized at the Tablets of the Missing, National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific.
Special thanks to Karen Graf and Jerry Hagedorn for their permission to use Bruno Hagedorn’s personal letters and photos.
Decorations
Purple Heart
For wounds resulting in his death in action, 4 June 1942.
Next Of Kin Address
Address of wife, Mrs. Vibeke “Becky” Hagedorn.
Location Of Loss
Hagedorn was shot down at an unspecified point after departing from Midway.
Comment from Karen Graf
9 November 2012
Bruno Hagedorn was my Uncle — Although I was born too late to meet him, I feel like I know him from reading saved letters he sent to his family between February 7, 1942 and May 28, 1942. My cousin stumbled on your website yesterday while helping her son with a Veterans Day project and shared it with me. Your information is wonderful — thank you so much for compiling it. It seems to be very accurate based on some research I did several years ago.
Bruno Hagedorn’s mother’s name was Alma Hagedorn. He graduated from Barringer High School in Newark, NJ in 1935 and earned a degree in Electrical Engineering from Newark College of Engineering in 1939.
Reply on 9 November 2012
Hi Karen – thanks for writing and for the corrections! I’m always glad to hear from family members, and if you need any more information from me, please let me know! I was in touch with some members of PFC Piraneo’s family a long time ago, but unfortunately haven’t heard from them in a while.
Do you still have his letters? I’d be very interested to know what he said about his time in the Corps!
Cheers!
Geoffrey
Reply on 13 November 2012
Thank you for posting the updates so quickly. I do have the letters. I recently scanned them and have them all saved as pdf files. Because of censorship, his letters were mostly small talk but if you would like to see any of them, I would be happy to share them.
Comment from Jerry Hagedorn
13 November 2012
I must also thank you for this research and article. My name is Jerry Alfred Hagedorn. Alfred Paul Hagedorn was my Grandfather, John Arend Hagedorn (Bruno Paul Hagedorn’s older brother) was my Father. I also, like my cousin Karen, never met our heroic uncle. Veterans Day always makes me wish things had turned our differently in our family. I also have some letters that my father had received from Bruno after he was transferred to Midway. I believe he was “line officer” for his flight group. My father was stationed in Fort Sill Oklahoma as an armorment instructor and was then sent to Burma. I believe he received the notice of his brother’s death while he was there. I have a letter that my Grandfather sent my father telling him that Bruno was missing.. A few years ago I went to the Pensacola base where my uncle did his final flight training and did some research. There is an article there written by the Commander giving a pretty concise description of the battle.
I’ve never seen the group picture you have in your article. What do the “X’s” on the vests mean?
Reply on 13 November 2012
Hi Jerry,
My grandfather was at Fort Sill during the war as well! He also went to the CBI theater; he was a horse breaker with the army’s 699th Quartermaster Remount Troop. Wouldn’t it be something if they’d crossed paths at some point?
My great uncle and my first cousin (twice removed) both died in the Pacific; one aboard the USS Quincy (he is listed as missing) and one with the Marines on Saipan. I’ve been lucky enough to meet some of the Marines that served with my relative, though talking to them makes me wish, like you, that things had gone differently.
The picture is from Robert Cressman’s book “A Glorious Page in Our History.” The “Xs” on the vests were added after the battle to show the pilots who were lost in the fighting. I haven’t got the key in front of me, but they are all profiled on the site, and if memory serves it was taken in late May, not long before the battle.
I’d be very interested to know what Bruno was writing to his brother leading up to the battle. You can contact me at webmaster@ablecompany24.com – it’s a pleasure to meet you and Karen.
Reply on 14 November 2012
Karen and I will be corresponding and send you copies of the letters we have. My father spoke about a farrier at fort sill that he used to go “to town” with. unforturnately I don’t remember his name. He wound up somewhere in Burma working on what has to be the early beginnings of the unmanned drones we have today. He worked on a hydaulic launch system. I don’t know if it was successful or not.